


"Hand me the knife."

by Julius_Ranch



Series: Weskennedy Crack [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Fluff, Leon can't take anything seriously, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julius_Ranch/pseuds/Julius_Ranch
Summary: Leon and Wesker make a Thanksgiving meal together.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Albert Wesker
Series: Weskennedy Crack [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887415
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	"Hand me the knife."

Rolling over, Wesker reached out for the warm body next to him, hugging it closer. Nuzzling his face in its plush exterior, he lazily slid his eyes open in mild confusion at the texture. Turns out he grabbed Leon's pillow instead, and the man in question was long gone. Pausing to listen for the sound of a shower or brushing of teeth, all he got was a very muted shuffling from the kitchen. Pushing himself up, Wesker yawned, snapping his jaws shut with an audible click of teeth. Rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm, he quietly padded to the kitchen, catching the time; it was 6:47 AM. He frowned at the clock. It must have been wrong. Leon never got up earlier than eight if he could help it. Was he sick? Did he have a nightmare?

Walking faster, he rounded the corner, expecting to see Leon with dark circles, clammy skin and rumpled hair, holding a cup of coffee.

Instead his partner was humming to himself, swaying on the spot with a slight smile. His silky hair was a bit unkempt, but nothing that a few run-throughs with a comb couldn't fix. Leon looked absolutely heavenly in the early morning light radiating off him, almost like he was the source of all the light in the room.

He was currently stirring something in a large bowl, not yet noticing Wesker's stare. How could he not drink in Leon wearing a pair of boxers and one of Wesker's few colorful shirts that were a tad loose around the shoulders and arms.

Loosely looping his arms around the agent's waist, Wesker rested his head drowsily on Leon's shoulder. "Mmm." 

Chuckling, Leon turned his head to give Wesker a kiss. "Morning to you too. Did I wake you?"

"No. What are you doing up? Did you have a nightmare?" Wesker dipped his head to hide in the crook of his neck. He should have gotten his sunglasses.

"Actually I got up to get a head start on cooking,” he said, angling the bowl so Wesker could take a peek of the process of smoothing out his mashed potatoes.

"Cooking?" he grumbled, squinting at the starchy mixture with contempt. "You don't normally make mashed potatoes for breakfast."

Laughing, Leon shook his head. "Wesker, it's Thanksgiving! Don't tell me you forgot." 

Leon took his silence as a silent admission and lifted the spatula for the tyrant to sample. "Does it taste good?"

Taking the smallest bite, Wesker slowly chewed, allowing the flavors to mingle in his mouth before swallowing. "Better than Chris'."

"Ha! That's because I make mine with love and care while he does it with brute force and rage." He reached into a cabinet above for plastic wrap to cover the bowl. Gently untangling himself from Wesker, Leon placed it in the fridge and caught the look he was given.

"What?"

Clearly seeing Wesker's eyeroll, he pouted. "What? I like making Thanksgiving food! I love everything about the holiday, family and friends coming to gather, bonding, being thankful." He sighed wistfully. Wesker could only guess he was remembering fond childhood memories.

"Thanksgiving was made so Lincoln could win the election of 1864." Wesker's monotone voice cut through Leon's warm fuzzies like a cleaver. Glaring, he pointed the way Wesker came through.

"If you can't bare to experience joy, then get out of my kitchen."

Leon narrowed his eyes as Wesker approached him in that hypnotic sway of hips that he used whenever he wanted to distract Leon. "Come now pet, it's 6 in the morning. Here, let me help you make the dishes?" he offered, holding both his and Leon's wrist, gently kissing his knuckles.

Wesker smirked at Leon's small flush at his ministrations. He tugged his hands away with a shrug. "Fine, but you're doing all the chopping." It was always too easy.

Fetching the cutting board, Wesker was sliding a rather large knife from the block of wood holding it when Leon held a small paring knife out to him. "Here."

Leon smiled at Wesker's put out expression as he gingerly took the knife, eyeing it warily. "What do you need me to chop?"

Sliding a pile of vegetables over to Wesker, Leon ignored his look of disbelief. "Leon are you running a rabbit farm?"

"What? No, it's for a lot of other things. Now get chopping, I want the onions and garlic diced."

Grumbling, Wesker set on washing, peeling, chopping and dicing his way through the overkill of vegetables next to him.

After an hour or so of silence other than the cracking of steel on wood and Leon messing around behind him, they were both focused on their individual tasks. After he was finished, Wesker turned around to ask if he should do the baked goods, the words dying on his tongue at the sight of Leon elbow deep in the turkey.

His face was tense, the other hand braced on the chest of the bird. Nothing on the surface was visible tampered with, so Wesker had no idea what he could be doing. Leon kept twisting his arm around in complete silence. 

"What are you doing?"

That snapped Leon out of his trance, his blue eyes landed on him. "Huh?" he grunted. 

"I said what are you doing to that turkey. You haven't done anything to it, you haven't even pulled anything out either." Wesker pointed out, noticing the lack of gizzards anywhere.

Not answering him, Leon slowly retracted his arm from the poor bird and showed a fistful of artfully severed organs. Placing them in an open Ziploc bag, Leon repeated this once more and placed it in the fridge as well. Washing his arm off, Wesker had to ask.

"Do you always defile turkey carcasses like that, or only for Thanksgiving?"

"It's a family tradition. My Grandfather taught me the trick to it and every Thanksgiving it becomes a competition of sorts,” he said, smiling down at his hands.

"A competition of whomever can have the cleanest cut organs without harming the bird?"

"Yeah. I know it's weird, but some of my favorite memories were from Thanksgiving."

"Very strange indeed," Wesker muttered. "Do you want me to make the pie?"

Drying his arm and hands off, Leon leaned over and gave Wesker a peck. "That'd be amazing. Just don't destroy anything."

Feeling a bit faint at the smile Leon gave him, Wesker grabbed another bowl and started making the pie crust with practiced ease. He wouldn't never admit it, but Wesker loved cooking with Leon. It felt so comfortable and intimate. Like family. The feeling made Wesker feel like he was expanding from the warmth as he gently unrolled it on a pie pan. Wesker smirked, knowing Leon would call him the Grinch and say ‘your heart is growing three times its size’. Carefully pushing the crust down, he quickly washed the bowl and started on the filling. Taking a peek to Leon, Wesker was pleased he wasn't back to disrespecting the body, but actually doing something nontraditional. Wesker wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to achieve, but he trusted Leon that it wouldn't end up burnt like the turkey he made last year to surprise his husband.

Gently shaking all the bubbles out, Wesker opened the oven and slid it inside and set the timer.

"Need any help?"

Shaking his head, Leon turned around. "I'm good, thanks. How's the pie?"

"In the oven." He leaned against the counter, staring out the window and squinting harshly. A couple years ago, Wesker would have probably been up now hunched over a microscope, hair amiss, working on his fifth cup of coffee, so close to a breakthrough with a new virus. He would have actually laughed in their face if someone told him he'd be married to some American boy scout that opposed him on every turn, and would cook a Thanksgiving dinner with him at 6 AM. Then Wesker would have probably killed them.

How times have changed.

"Done!" Leon announced, more so to himself then Wesker. He took a step back to appreciate his craft. Wesker saw nothing special with it, it just looked like he took the skin of the turkey with the meat stuffed inside, string tying it together.

"What is this?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure it's called a ‘Turkey Roulade,’" Leon called from the sink, washing his hands once more.

"Ah, we're going French?" Wesker mused, giving the roulade a once-over. "Impressive knife work as always Leon."

"What can I say, I'm pretty sharp with this sorta thing," Leon said, struggling to keep a straight face after hearing Wesker sigh deeply.

"Sometimes I wonder why I married you," he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly.

"Because of my wily charms and rugged appearance~" he purred, tugging Wesker into an embrace and kissing his face all over.

Kissing him back, Wesker braced himself against the counter. "Not in the kitchen love, you could get hurt," he mumbled in the scant inch between their lips.

Scoffing, the agent placed one more kiss on Wesker's lips before stepping back. "I guess I should start breakfast. I dunno about you, but I'm hungry." Leon shuffled to the fridge and pulled out a packet of bacon and a couple of eggs.

Cleaning up while Leon cooked, Wesker set the table. It was a nice change of pace to his life before. Something he could work himself deeper in and not think about finding a way out once it suffocated him. He'd gladly die for the spectacular man currently jumping every time oil popped and landed on his hands.

Thanking him for breakfast, Wesker took his time savoring the food that was made for him. Made with love and joy. It squeezed his heart in a deliciously enticing way that begged for him to ravish Leon. To show his compassion physically. It’s still hard even now for him to express it verbally beyond praise.

“You alright?”

Blinking, Wesker smoothed the wrinkling of his brows and looked over to see Leon just picking at his eggs, more focused on Wesker. Seeing the concern plainly visible on his face squeezed Wesker’s heart painfully. To soothe him, Wesker gave him a slight smile. "Nothing dearheart, just the sunlight stings.”

Leon narrowed his blue eyes as he studied Wesker’s face before sighing. “I’ll go get them.” Walking out of the kitchen, Leon disappeared from view. Finishing his breakfast, Wesker thanked Leon when he came back and quickly placed his sunglasses on. A wave of relief washed over him when his eyes no longer constantly stung from the sunlight.

As they talked throughout the morning, Wesker being a victim to more awful puns, the oven dinged forty minutes later, signaling the pie was finished. Having to shoo Leon away so he could extract the pie, he pointed a stern finger at his husband. “Don’t touch it.”

“Aww, come on Al! One slice won’t hurt anybody,” he whined with a pout. “I’m dying to eat some pleaseeee.”

Releasing a long suffering sigh, Wesker scowled. “No. Don’t make me put this somewhere up high.”

“As long as I get something just as sweet,” Leon said, his voice again dropping an octave and gaining a sultry tone. Leon placed a hand on Wesker's chest. “I got something new for us to mess around with.”

Swallowing, Wesker nodded, letting Leon drag him back to bed with a devious smile.

Gently pressing him to lay back, Leon slipped into their closet and after a few anxious minutes of fabric rustling, Leon stepped out flirtatiously, one long leg slipped out, it was in a yellow stocking with black horizontal stripes. Confused, Wesker pushed aside his anticipation for slight suspicion.

Finally all of Leon slid into view and Wesker immediately regretted following Leon here. 

Leon was wearing a sexualized turkey outfit, that hugged and squeezed him like it was a size too small. He did a little twirl, and the thing even had a fantail to complete the look.

"So, how do I look?" he asked, stalking towards the bed.

"I need to find a new husband."

"Wesker!" Leon whined, throwing a pillow from the floor at him. "I searched really hard for this, do you know how difficult it was to find?"

"No, because no one is stupid enough to disrespect the goddamn food we're eating on this fake holiday."

Crossing his arms with a huff, Leon turned and walked back towards the closet. "I'm keeping this."

Wesker could only pray that Leon buying sexualized themes of the holidays would end here.


End file.
